


Scream Scream Scream

by kkscatnip (autohaptic)



Series: Bonds That Tie [2]
Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Cussing, Featuring a Seriously Underage Jason, In spite of sexual activity, M/M, Self-Denial, Size Difference, Soul Bond, Titled by iTunes, Underage Masturbation, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Yelling Always Makes Things Better
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-14
Updated: 2013-09-14
Packaged: 2017-12-26 12:45:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/966082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/autohaptic/pseuds/kkscatnip
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>A man is many things<br/>Let's count them all tonight</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scream Scream Scream

**Author's Note:**

  * For [riversburn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/riversburn/gifts).



> This fic is for riversburn because she came up with the entire BTT universe in the first place. All that praise/blame? Lay it on her. Other people come up with the ideas; I just write them.

When you're on the street, you develop certain mechanisms to help you do things like sleep. 'Cause when you're curled up under an overpass or tucked into an alley or a corner in a squat or wherever it is you found to sleep, there are people around, and if you're like Jason, well. You're a little paranoid. So really sleeping is hard; Jason gets by on catnaps most of the time, but if he gets an opportunity to really sleep, he fucking takes it, even though it gets wasted a lot because of insomnia.

One thing Jason discovered a long time ago was that an orgasm before bed is pretty much the equivalent of the shot of whiskey that Jason doesn't dare drink. Instead, he touches himself, and it tends to work pretty well, especially when he is, you know. Tense. Worried. Suddenly magically bonded, soul to soul, to fucking Batman.

Well, maybe the last didn't happen on the streets, but it's happened now so. Jason jacks off. He has a few sure-fire fantasies that help, though they're all based in reality somewhere and the one he likes best isn't a fantasy at all. It’s a memory, from when Jessica had offered him a tit-for-tat exchange on a slow night. 

Jason took her up on the offer. They split the cost of an hour in a dirty motel room and had the most amazing sex of Jason's life. 

He’s never going to see her again, is he? Bruce isn't likely to let Jason keep in contact with his street buddies.

No, see, those thoughts aren't conducive to an orgasm. They’re conducive to his fucking dick getting soft, which is the opposite of what he wants.

Okay, he can imagine that one lady he'd seen walking down the street with way too few clothes on for Gotham. She'd been dark-skinned, almost blending in with the night until she hit a street light, and then Jason saw everything: all the muscles in her legs, that bikini that was just--just nothing to it, covering the best parts and not much else--and the roundness of her ass, the fluid grace she walked with; not just grace, but power. She had walked like she knew what she was doing, where she was going. 

Jason licks his lips, eyes shut tight as he begins to jack himself in languid motions. Yeah, that is just what he wants to see: her legs, those calves and thighs and her _ass_ , fuck yes, walking through the streetlight. 

She walks and walks and walks in Jason's mind, and his hand speeds up, but the more she walks, the more the orange washes her skin, the lighter she gets. And then her feet are larger, bare, and when Jason looks up at her ass again it’s the goddamn Batman's ass in these assless chaps that have a little bat on the side. 

_Oh, for fuck's sake._

Jason groans unhappily, and realizes that at some point he rolled over in bed. He’s been staring blankly at the wall and all at once he gets it: Bruce's room is that way. _Bruce_ is that way.

Clearly, Jason's brain has certain needs, and fuck the fact that Jason just wants to sleep and fuck with all of this bond stuff in the morning, in the light, where it might be less like being swallowed alive.

His breath hitches for a moment and he squeezes himself. Still hard. 

Maybe he can just think about Bruce and do it. Jason shuts his eyes again and thinks about Batman, but, no, fuck, that isn't going to work at all. Thinking about Batman makes Jason's dick want to shrivel up and just _hide_. He always kind of had a fear of Batman catching him and--well, look what happened.

He thinks about Bruce instead, about Bruce's hands being so strong and so exact as he untied Jason, not touching his skin again, after those first touches. 

But the touches had been like... not like fire, but like the feeling of goodness and pleasure and a warm place to sleep and a full stomach. And sexual, yeah, but...

God, he just needs to go in there and get Bruce to jack him or something. Then they'll have fucked, kind of, and Jason will get to sleep and it'll be perfect, right? Jason hopes so.

*

Bruce's room smells like him; that’s the first thing that Jason notices. The bedroom smells like _Bruce_ and the smell makes Jason's half-hard dick twitch. He put on boxers, because Alfred, but--

Jason catches Bruce's eyes in the dark, and he can't breathe for a few moments. His heart skips a few beats and suddenly nothing matters but getting over to the bed as fast as he can. He straddles Bruce's abs when he gets there, biting his lip for a moment at the way Bruce _flexes_ , and then taking a deep breath. 

"Look. I don't give a flying fuck if you're going to try and be--try and be fucking _Batman_ about this whole bond bullshit, but. But I need to get off so I can sleep and I--you're kind of clear and present, if you know what I mean. I couldn't--fuck, it doesn't even matter." 

The only thing Bruce does is narrow his eyes slightly at that, then blink, like he's telling Jason to keep talking. Only Jason's panting a little, squirming on top of Bruce, fuck, why is his body _doing this_ it's not even _fair_.

"So we can talk about this later, and we _will_ , don't think you're going to get out of it, but right now I just need to _do this_. And you're going to help." There's no ‘or else’; Jason feels the heat under Bruce's skin, the prickle of Bruce's arousal in his mind. It's like he's breathing it, when they're this close.

Jason leans back a little, uncovering Bruce's mouth and hoping he still looks something other than drunk on the spike of arousal from just sitting on Bruce's stomach.

Bruce's smile is... not Batman. Not at all. "You drive a hard bargain," he says, and puts his hands on the outsides of Jason's bare thighs. He squeezes briefly while Jason laughs his head off, and then Jason takes Bruce's hand and pushes it down into his boxers. He spots a few holes from wear when the fabric stretches around Bruce’s fist, but doesn't have the time to blush before Bruce's long fingers wrap around his dick.

Jason moans, body shuddering because Bruce is _touching_ and it's right where Jason wants it. The part of his mind that is the bond is happy, boundlessly happy, stretching out everywhere just as the arousal floods in and darkens the happy red to maroon. It envelops him, and this time he doesn't rage at that. He can't; he's too lost in it. 

And then Bruce pulls that hand away--the other is still hot like an iron on Jason's thigh, thumb digging into stringy muscle--and the world is much less amazing. Jason gasps for breath, leaning back against Bruce's knees and just trying to find level ground. 

"Kind of intense," he says, and sighs, trying to even out his breaths. Trying to be just a little, tiny bit coherent. 

Bruce licks his hand. Spits into it twice, too, and doesn't say anything as he reaches for Jason's dick again. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck, the slickness adds the extra bit of physical sensation that makes Jason's knees come up involuntarily. Bruce uses his elbows to push Jason's knees back down, squeezes his cock, and begins to stroke him slowly. 

His eyes are so, so intent. Jason can't look at him; he puts his head back and groans unsteadily, hands fisting next to his hips. In the back of his head, there's a low murmur that sounds like Bruce. The words are indistinct, but the murmur is an endless stream that makes Jason feel completely coated by Bruce even though logically he knows that he's the one on top of Bruce, that he's not--not-- 

Jason gasps in and in and in as his balls tighten and Bruce squeezes harder but doesn't vary the rhythm of his strokes. No, he's steady and relentless and Jason can't help squirming, shifting as he groans and groans, hands coming up to cover his chest and then his face because it's just too much. 

He comes that way, the heels of his hands pressed imperfectly against his mouth and his fingernails clawing down his forehead. Behind his eyes is every finale of every fireworks show he ever saw perched on a rooftop overlooking the docks, and his body is just, so much good, and he can feel the spike in Bruce's arousal inside his head, too, feel it making this orgasm even _better_.

Instead of leaning back against Bruce's knees when Bruce pulls his hand away, Jason collapses back instead, boneless, humming and feeling like he's full of electricity and light and Bruce. It’s the best orgasm he's ever had, hands down. 

Not just because it was intense, but because it felt--right. Sex wasn't wrong before, at least not when he wasn't hooking, but the rightness of doing this here with Bruce is just. To the bone, he feels it. 

He hates it, as soon as he opens his eyes and sees the look on Bruce's face. Completely closed off. Well, Jason can fix that shit, can't he? He reaches back, but before he knows what the fuck is happening, he's on his stomach with Bruce pressed behind him, holding Jason's leg and arm uncomfortably. Like they're wrestling or something. 

"What the _fuck_ ," Jason says, not giving a single solitary damn if it's not a question at all, and squirms. 

Bruce has a good grip; Jason doesn't get far, even if he's tons smaller, and isn't there supposed to be some advantage to being smaller when you're fighting? 

Maybe against people who aren't goddamned Batman. 

And he's still fucking silent, not saying a damn word. "Why are you even fucking being like this," Jason growls, lifting his head up off the bed so the words come out clearly. "You're such a righteous fucking _asshole_ , but I guess I shouldn't have expected anything different from some crazy motherfucker who gets dressed up in a costume and beats up people who're doing what they gotta do to survive, should I?" 

Still, Bruce says nothing. In Jason's mind, he is hot and bright--angry, but still aroused underneath it. 

"Fuck you," Jason growls. "Fuck you and your fucking--thinking you need to _fix_ Gotham." Maybe Bruce's anger is infectious, or Jason's just frustrated, or... God, does it even matter?

"Protect," Bruce says, like a slap. 

Jason squirms; he's starting to get sore. "Could've fooled me. Let me _up_." 

Bruce doesn't make him make any stupid fucking promises or anything. Just pulls away and is at the edge of the bed in the blink of an eye. "Go to bed, Jason. You--" 

"Need sleep? Because I'm a growing goddamned boy?" Jason asks, sitting on the other edge of the bed, then standing. Glaring. 

"I was going to say that you're being angry and childish, but. As you prefer. Go to bed, Jason." And he delivers it all in that calm voice of his, like he's reading from a textbook or something. Even though Jason feels the arousal raging in his head, sees the way Bruce's dick pitches a massive tent.

Jason can't even come up with a comeback, he's so fucking angry. Instead he slams the door behind him as he leaves, and uses his boxers to clean himself off before pulling on his t-shirt and crawling into bed wearing just that. Sleeping naked just feels too vulnerable; he'd wear his jeans, but they're _really_ dirty (he wouldn't let Alfred take them to be cleaned) and the bed is _really_ fucking clean.

Shutting his eyes isn't hard. And the orgasm does make him feel a little tired, but... 

There's still Bruce in his head, just about quivering with barely-controlled energy. Arousal and a bundle of other things all smeared together to where Jason can't even separate the emotions. And Bruce is just ignoring everything.

He figures out after an hour and a half--and what a novelty that is, a clock right there--that Bruce is meditating. 

'Cause meditating will totally help more than just like, letting Jason jack him off. Or blow him. Or whatever. Oh yeah, Jason can tell exactly how well it's working by the way all of the things in Bruce's head are not going any damn where at all.

Another hour later, Jason sees grey tendrils starting to lighten the landscape outside his window. "Fuck your meditation, Bruce!" he yells, as loud as he can. 

It startles Bruce out of his trance, like a balloon popping in Jason's mind. 

Okay, Jason's smile is vicious, but Bruce deserves that shit if he's going to let his virtue keep both of them awake.

**Author's Note:**

> I decided I would populate my notes section with cute, inane, or funny things about the fic in question. Just go with it, man.  
> 1) The working title for this fic was "Jason faps before bed". It wasn't properly titled until literally fifteen minutes ago.  
> 2) I wanted to do this fic in first person, because I think first-person Jay is something that might really _work_ with his voice, but ended up deciding against it. Maybe next time!


End file.
